Smells Like Love: We Pay Tribute to Our Moms’ Perfume

What did your mother smell like when you were a child? Sweet florals, warm spices, fresh greenery? Whatever the notes in her fragrance, they probably translated to love, comfort, safety and sophistication in your little nose and heart. Here, The Kit editors remember. 

 

“I have a strong memory of sitting in a bubble bath in the mid-’80s and gazing upon a blue, silver and black striped cylindrical bottle on the bathroom counter, marvelling at its sophistication. It was Yves Saint Laurent Rive Gauche, named for the bohemian side of the Seine in Paris, and it was the most glamorous thing in our house. I don’t remember watching my mum put on makeup or skincare, or do her hair, but I knew that bottle connected her to a world that was French and fashionable. Created in 1971 (though it’s been reformulated since, and isn’t widely available now), it was a floral aldehyde—fresh and green and not at all sweet, with flowery notes of honeysuckle and lily of the valley, citrusy lemon and bergamot and earthy geranium and vetiver. To me, it smelled like a side of my mum I didn’t usually get to see, one that belonged not to our cozy home but to a wider world she’d explored without me, and that one day I’d set off and see myself. It was a thrill.” —Rani Sheen, features director

 

“My mom’s display of fragrances is one of my earliest memories of beauty. I used to tiptoe to catch a glimpse of all the bottles (gifts from my dad’s travels) lined up on the bathroom counter. She rarely puts on perfume unless it’s a special occasion, but she’d always reach for the distinctive tall and slender bottle of L’Eau d’Issey. It was a unique scent compared to her other bolder fragrances. Light and powdery, it smelled like her favourite flowers: lotus, rose and white lilies. As a little girl at family functions, I’d often get tired of the adults talking, and when she told me to lay my head on her lap, I’d find comfort in that fresh scent.” —Renée Tse, shopping editor

 

“When I was kid, I thought my mother was the epitome of glamour. Dark eye makeup, glossy lips, big earrings—and always perfume. The fragrance bottles on her dresser were magical to me: special potions that, one day, I would be lucky enough to be allowed to buy, too. One was Cinnabar by Estée Lauder, which I haven’t seen on anyone’s dresser since the ’70s, but it’s still on the market. And a spicy-amber ’70s fragrance it was, with heady clove, patchouli and sandalwood anchoring floral notes. It was named after a toxic mineral prized for its rusty red colour and used in many decorative applications thousands of years ago. Beauty and danger, an iconic pair.” —Eden Boileau, production director

 

“Whenever I’d snuggle into my mom’s neck as a kid, it was always Chanel No. 5 that’d greet me. I remember my little sister would cling to a scarf of my mom’s when she felt anxious, because it had that signature scent. Now, decades later, I realize that many women of my mom’s generation wore No. 5 too—my mother-in-law, friends’ moms—but for me, that aldehydic floral will always be the perfume embodiment of my mom’s comfort and warmth.” —Caitlin Kenny, contributing beauty editor

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